


Cats Cradle

by NadiaHart



Series: String Theory [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Art, BDSM, BDSM Contract negotiation, BDSM Scene, BDSM culture, BDSM scene names, Bondage, Bottom Dean, But you'll know who they are, Castiel/Dean Winchester BDSM, Dean in Panties, Digital Art, Digital Painting, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel, First Scene, First Time, Hair-pulling, Lawyer Castiel, M/M, NSFW Art, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Origin Story, POV Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Poor Dean Winchester, Possessive Castiel, Praise Kink, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Spanking, Sub Dean, Team Dean's Red Ass, Top Cas, Use of vibrators, alfie and samandriel are the same person, alfie is a little shit, bdsm club, bratty dean, dom Cas, everyone uses an alternate name, kink discussion, now with art, now with fan art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart
Summary: Dean's night started out normal enough. Work two jobs, come home to his closet of an apartment, drink what ever shitty beer is in his mini fridge, RVSP to the party at his local BDSM club and maybe, if he's lucky, he'll find a service top to beat his ass so red he'll forget about his shit life for two seconds. Well that was how it was supposed to go anyway, it was supposed to be a normal night, but what's normal for Dean Winchester anyway? A message from a close friend changes everything and maybe,just maybe,Dean's finally found the Dom he's been looking for. Now if he just doesn't fuck it up.Now with art!





	Cats Cradle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izabelluhroze](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Izabelluhroze).



> Thank you for reading. Please heed the tags!! This is a prompt fill from my [Tumblr](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com/) from [@Izabelluhroze](https://izabelluhroze.tumblr.com/) who wanted Dean tied up and put in his place. They gave me so much inspiration, I am sure I will be writing a fic for them again in the future. 
> 
> I may have gone a little off topic with your request Bella, I hope you can forgive me. 
> 
> Feel free top stop by my [tumblr](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com/) and say Hi, I don't bite, unless you ask nicely. 
> 
> **ALSO** now with some beautiful fan art by the one and only [@Foxymoley](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/) follow their tumblr for more amazing art!
> 
> P.s. special thanks to [@coffeepowered](https://patheticpoeticapathetic.tumblr.com/) who volunteered to beta for me. Thank you!!!

Dean let out a low groan as he sank down into his rickety computer chair. Work had kicked his ass today, he was bone tired and frustrated. Fridays he worked both his jobs. Kicking his feet up on his street scavenged desk, he wiggled the mouse to boot up his computer. The Jiffy Lube wasn’t so bad but it had been ladies night at the bar and Dean was thankful he didn’t have to work till close. The ancient computer clicked loudly to life as the screen hummed itself into a dull blue glow. Dean lifted the nameless discount beer to his lips and let his eyes drift around the closet he called a room. Living in the bad part of the city hadn’t been his idea of a good time, but when Sam moved out to Cali, Dean didn’t have anything better to do but follow; hell, he still didn’t.

When the login box wiggled into view Dean set down his beer and punched in his password. The web browser opened as the desktop loaded, his three favorite homepages battled for bandwidth. Email, Facebook and KinkConnect all popped up in their own tabs, he’d been meaning to bookmark the car forum for a while now. KinkConnect loaded and almost immediately a small ping issued out from the headphones, discarded on his desk. Dean ignored it, instead clicking over to his Facebook tab and checked his notifications. 

He frowned to himself, three likes, one from Sam, his wife and Benny, on the new photo he posted and nothing else; honestly what had he expected, his life was boring. Sam posted a new photo too, his large frame wrapped around an equally large Great Dane, his wife Eileen, snuggled on the other side of the beast, six comments and seventeen reactions. Dean smiled as he clicked the heart icon, fingers poised to type a snarky comment when his headphones gave another weak ping. Rolling his eyes he grabbed the headphones and shoved them on before pulling the keyboard onto his lap and switching tabs.

KinkConnect loaded up, his new photo had thirty likes and eight new friend requests awaited him, all of which were probably just solicitations he’d delete right off. It was the small chat box poking up from the bottom of the screen that drew his attention. Two excited messages from his friend Alfie blinked almost happily at him.

 **Sandman** : Hunter!!!! You’re coming tonight?! I saw your RSVP on the event page!!!

 Dean smiled, Alfie was another male sub; the younger man had initially approached Dean to Dom for him. Impressed by Dean’s build, Alfie had shyly requested Dean to ‘bend him over his knee and beat his ass red.’ Dean would never forget how the smaller man had blushed and stammered over his request and how impressed Dean had been with Alfie’s ability to just go for what he wanted, even if it made him embarrassed. Dean was still working on accepting his more exotic kinks and desires.

He had honestly expected some kind of rejection when he’d confessed to Alfie that he was a sub, not a Dom, quickly reassuring Alfie that he’d be happy to service top for him if he couldn’t find anyone to play with. Alfie had surprised Dean by not only being welcoming but understanding of Dean’s preferences. Dean was a big dude, he was frequently propositioned for Doming. He had tried his hand at it and found that after all his years of ‘keeping shit together’ he just didn’t want to anymore. He found an amazing sense of relief and freedom in handing over the reins of his life and his body to another human, even for just a little while. It was one of the few times his shitty life wasn’t so shitty.

 **Sandman:** I’m bringing a friend! I think you two would get along really well, I’d love to introduce you! What do you think, check out his profile. Kinkster: SeraphimsJudgement

Dean’s mouse hovered over the link. He _was_ looking for a new play partner and he did trust Alfie’s judgement. The two had become actual friends over the years, hanging out outside of the scene on more than one occasion.

 **Hunter:** Hey Sandy. Yeah, I’ll be there. It’s been too long and I’m off tomorrow. How do you know this guy? You sure he’d be interested in my type? 

 **Sandman:** Ugh! Hunter, please. You need to stop being so worried, you’re an awesome sub. Not everyone is put off by your size, some people prefer it….

 **Sandman:** Anyway, yeah I think you’re just his type. He’s an old college friend. I’ve known him a long time. He plays safe, he plays smart and he’s been vetted. But if you’d rather not… I haven’t told him about you yet.

Dean bit his lip, moving his cursor back to the link, he clicked it. The page loaded quickly, highspeed internet was the one thing Dean refused to skimp on. Shitty apartment in the shitty part of the city--check, no elevator and living on the tenth floor-- check, tiny closet of an apartment with no actual closet-- check, communal bathroom and kitchen-- check, and honestly all fine. Not having high speed internet, deal breaker.

Dean skimmed the profile, all pretty standard stuff. Though this guy’s style of writing was stiff, devoid of the flowery promises of pain and punishment other ‘Dom’s’ seemed to fill their bio’s with. A conservative blurb about finding release in control and receiving submission, how good boy’s are rewarded, how he expects respect, still fairly typical Dom shit. The guy did speak of a passion for photography and how he viewed submission as a form of art. Dean rolls his eyes, scrolling down the page to the guys kinks; soft and hard limits.

“Huh.” Dean muttered, his boots falling from the desk to drop heavily onto the floor. He spun his chair around to face the computer straight on. They were pretty evenly matched on the kink front, this Seraphim guy seemed to fill the spots Dean needed filling. Ropes, plugs, service, punishment, spanking… discipline and Dean noticed with a smirk, obedience. Dean scrolled and scrolled, becoming more and more interested by the second. Dean was a bratty sub, he enjoyed toying with his Doms almost as much as he enjoyed receiving their punishment. A lot of Doms thought because they listed themselves as a 'Dom' on their profile they deserved respect. Not in Dean’s book, that shit was earned. If you couldn’t earn it, you didn’t deserve it. Dean’s submission was a gift. He didn’t just hand that shit out, well not anymore anyway.

Dean’s headphones pinged again.

 **Sandman:** Look at the photos ^_~

He chuckled. Alfie was obviously excited about the prospect of Dean meeting his buddy. 

 **Hunter:** pushy, pushy.

  **Sandman:** I know, I am just eager. Sorry!!! (notsorry)

 Dean clicked on the photos link. The main photo had Dean licking his lips. Black and grey with dramatic lighting, it was a shot of the man’s sculpted torso, a defined trail of dark hair traveled from his belly button down out of the frame. His body was beautiful and Dean was distracted by the sharp cut of his hipbones, wishing that the photo didn’t cut off before he could see the goods, no dick, no face. Dean wasn’t really surprised, anonymity was the name of the game, it’s why everyone went by their screen names in the scene. What he was surprised about though was the man’s hands, held out in front of his taut abs, beautiful long fingers tensed as they maintained a complicated webbing of string between them.

 An advanced stage Cat’s Cradle. String wove and twirled, wrapped and dipped from one finger to the next, around the back of his smooth skinned hands, linking them in a way that formed a complicated nest of string between them. It contrasted against the hard sculpted planes of his abdomen in a way that made Dean’s skin itch to feel the bite of rope himself.

 He scanned the remaining photos, no face, no dick. Either the guy was fugly and had something to be ashamed of downstairs, or he had a career and life that being ‘outed’ could ruin. Was Dean willing to take the chance on this stranger? Alfie had never let him down before. He’d participated in dual-sub scenes with the younger man on a few occasions and enjoyed them all. 

Dean brought his beer to his lips taking a slow drag as he clicked from one photo to the next. The photos were tasteful, almost artistic. It looked like this Seraphim guy had a type, big dudes. Strong dudes, a few athletic women too- tied up or bowing, backs curved in submission or ecstasy, hands bound, mouths gagged. A few photos had some color in their black and grey pallets, mostly red. Red spanked bottoms, red lipped mouths smeared with lipstick over stubbled jaws, red rimmed eyes looking pleadingly up at the camera. Dean felt himself getting excited as he flicked from one photo to the next. It looked like the guy enjoyed bringing big dudes to heel. Dean smirked. Ok. Yes, he was totally doing this.

 **Hunter:** Send him my profile, if he’s interested we can meet and discuss.

 **Sandman:** Yay! Wanna head over together? I have to be there early I’m volunteering for the first half.

Dean glanced at the clock on his computer, four hours until doors opened.

 **Hunter:** Maybe next time. I just got in and I need to get ready.

 **Sandman:** Sounds good! See you then, it’s been too long. I’m so glad your coming! 

Dean smiled, Alfie was good people. In fact most of the people in his local scene were good. They looked out for one another, took care of one another and most were friends in their vanilla life. Dean quickly flicked over to his email, ran through deleting the spam before pushing away from his computer. He stripped, tossing his clothes into the basket by the door as he slipped on his robe, shoved his feet into flip-flops and grabbed his shower basket.

Lotus was different then most of the other big city dungeons, it was the main reason Dean had picked it. He had one too many close calls in his youth to not put his safety and comfort first anymore. The water ran warm over his skin as he stepped into one of the shower stalls. Lotus’s parties had a max of fifty people and everyone was vetted, mandated to attend a BDSM 101 class. Members paid dues to keep the club open and support new equipment, in return those who did become members receive discounted admission fees for parties. They had a board made up of active members in the lifestyle who got together with the owner to make decisions on the club’s direction and theme of the parties. It was a way more mature style of play; way safer than showing up at some club, paying fifty bucks at the door and letting some stranger have access to your body.

Dean craved safety, wanted to have respect and aftercare. He had long ago promised himself that he wouldn’t spend one more night scrubbing the tainted feeling from his skin because some guy who thought he was a Dom had crossed the line. It just wasn’t worth it, when there were communities like Lotus.

Dean was slipping pale pink thigh highs up his legs before he realized what he was doing. His skin glowed and he felt clean and content, inside and out. He slipped the garter belt around his hips and ran a long-fingered hand down the strap to the clip, linking it to the top lace of his thigh highs. He checked his reflection in the mirror, his hair was styled in soft spikes, he had shaved his jaw down to a light stubble. His chest was bare and his ass was clad in matching pale pink, satin panties. He threw on a pair of tight, black jeans-- not something he’d wear anyplace but Lotus-- and a snug black t-shirt.

He had checked the event page before getting ready. As usual, dress code was fetish gear, all black, or birthday suits. Tonight didn’t even have a theme and already 42 people had RSVP’d, the small two story dungeon would be crowded. Dean took two short strides to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer, he enjoyed the tug of his thigh high’s on his garter-belt. He fished out his black gear bag, checking inside to make sure all his favorite toys were there. He affectionately ran his fingertips over his favorite matte mauve silicone butt plug. Dean flipped the plug over and pressed the button at the base to ensure the bullet inside still had juice, before shutting it off and zipping the bag back up. He shoved his feet into black combat boots and checked his reflection once more-- Sam would totally chew into him if he saw Dean in these skinny jeans-- before grabbing his keys, wallet, and phone. He slipped out of his room locking the door. 

**)o(**

Dean shrugged his way into Lotus, the humidity of the summer clung to his skin in a way that made him want to shed his clothes and lay on the cool cement floor of the play rooms. He was relieved the club has such a good AC system.

“Hunter, long time.” Dean turned his head to the man standing behind the reception desk. Crowley was dressed, as always in his three piece suit, crisp cut lines, blood red tie. Around his neck was a thick spiked collar, a little red tag hung from the front, it shimmered in the light as he moved to check Dean in. One side read Puppy, the other read _Meg’s_. 

“Hell-Hound.” Dean nodded to Crowley, careful to use his scene name. He handed over his membership card and a crisp twenty dollar bill. Non-members were paying forty to attend tonight, Dean was relieved for the discount. Crowley handed back a black wristband that said PAID on the front, and three drink tickets with Dean’s membership card.

“Sandy was looking for you. The hyper little chipmunk is working at the free bar. Don’t forget no cellphones on the play floor.” Crowley said absently as he made a shooing motion with his hand.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean slung his bag over his arm as he slipped on the wrist band. The heavy sound of industrial music thrummed from deeper in the building, but the front room was fairly quiet and serene. Players who frequented Lotus affectionately called the front room, The Lounge, and utilized its more soothing atmosphere as an after care spot, good for cool-down and socializing.

The room was buzzing with people in various states of undress. While there was no play allowed in the lounge, you weren’t expected to be in your street clothes either. The room was large and unimposing with thick carpeting, a few comfortable couches and two large multi-person bean bag chairs. There was a large bar in the back corner, a tall blond man with cool blue eyes had a shaker raised above his head as he made drinks. The alcohol was heavily moderated and most people weren’t allowed more than three drinks. It was dangerous to play under the influence, it’s how people got hurt. Next to the actual bar stood the smaller ‘free bar’ serving water, soda, sports drinks, and snack bars. There Dean saw Alfie, jumping up and down waving his arms over his head attempting to get Dean’s attention. Dean returned his wave and headed in the younger man’s direction.

“Hunter!”

Dean paused mid-step as a woman bounced into his path. Her blond hair piled high into two messy buns on either side of her head, a headband that looked like cows ears pushed her hair out of her face. She was wearing a collar and crotchless leggings with the same cow print. From the loop on her collar two delicate chains dipped down and attached to nipple clamps. With every move she made the motion of her breasts would tug the chain and pull on the clamps. She smiled up at him, eyes bright, pure joy on her face.

“Hunter!” She said again lifting her arms as if to hug him but stopping short. She had a bottle of chocolate sauce in one hand and a jug of milk in the other. Dean laughed. “Milkshake?” She asked and shook her shoulders, moaning lightly as her full breasts swayed and her nipples pulled taught in the clamps.

“No thank you, Cookie.” Dean said. Donna’s full scene name was cookiesandSCREAM, which Dean thought was rather clever. “Not before my first beer.”

Donna pouted, “Ah, come on I can’t take the clamps off until I get rid of the milk!” She lifted and shook the half full jug, her breasts bouncing beautifully. 

Dean smiled as he leaned towards her, “But I know you like the clamps, Cookie.” Dean whispered giving her a wink that made her blush prettily. “Where’s Law?” Donna’s Dom Jody never let the spunky younger woman out of her sight for long. 

Donna gasped and peeked over her shoulder. “I’m hiding from her!” She winked and skipped over to Crowley.  The older man bent, eagerly opening his mouth for Donna to squirt some chocolate sauce passed his lips, adding the milk directly into his mouth. 

“Sandman!” 

“Hunter!!!” Alfie squeaked. He always got a kick out of using scene names.

“How’d you get roped into working tonight?” Dean asked as he fished out his wallet and dropped a five dollar bill in the tip jar. Anyone who volunteered to work the bars got to keep what ever tips they made at the end of their shift.

The younger man rolled his eyes at Dean’s tip. Alfie cocked his head, lifting his chin haughtily, lips parted to speak, Dean watched with amusement as his slim chest puffed out and... his attention was suddenly drawn over Dean’s shoulder. Alfie's smile became wicked, eyes sparkled as he clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes!”

“W-- What?” Dean was beyond confused at his friend’s sudden change. Here Dean had been ready to be on the receiving end of Alfie's unyielding sass, and it was like the wind had all but been sucked out of his friend. Alfie reached up and grabbed Dean’s jaw turning his head. “O-- oh…”

The heavy velvet curtain that hung over the door to the play area was pulled aside and the man stepping through was like nothing Dean had expected to see at Lotus. He was tall and broad but dressed as if he was about to give a college seminar lecture about, The Importance of Water Conservation During Periods of Drought … or something.

From somewhere far away he heard Alfie calling out “Over here, Ca… Seraph! Over here.” 

Sleek black dress slacks, shiny black shoes, a black leather belt with a shimmery silver buckle, and a black button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A crisp, black brocade waistcoat hugged his frame, accentuating his wide shoulders and slim hips. Dean licked his lips, eyes slowly devouring the man’s physique, how perfectly tailored his clothing was, how everything about him seemed to be perfectly in place... except his hair. Wild and windswept the black locks looked out of place with his quaffed attire. Dean, belatedly, realized he was staring, a pair of dazzling blue, slightly narrowed, eyes locked onto his own. 

“Seraph!” Alfie's chipper voice was laced with barely contained excitement.

 “Sandman.” 

And holy fuck. Who gave this guy the right to have a voice like that. A voice that vibrated its way right through Dean’s rib cage and nestled into his very bones. Like his voice had some kinda right to be there, some kind of right to effect Dean the way it did. The deep grating vibration made Dean’s chest ache to hear that voice whisper husky, filthy praise into his ear. Dean cleared his throat, Alfie and the other man-- Seraph -- were both looking at him. 

“Uh…” Dean licked his lips. “Hi.”

“As I was saying, Hunter, this is my friend Seraphim’s Judgement. Seraph, this is Hunter.” 

The man extended a hand towards Dean and without thinking he took it. Warm and solid Seraph’s hand wrapped around his own, hinting at the strength the other possessed. All too soon their hands were separating and Dean was surprised at how his palm tingled.

“You... uh…” Alfie stammered. 

Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Alfie bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking between them both. For some reason Dean couldn’t seem to break eye contact with the cool blue gaze currently analyzing him. Dean felt his shoulders lift, his chin raise slightly, as if this man’s calculating gaze was assessing him, evaluating Dean for all he’s worth.  

“Anyway… yeah…” Alfie clicked his tongue, looking around awkwardly. Dean could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. The longer this guy-- Seraph -- stared at him, the more Dean didn’t want to back down. It felt like a challenge and Dean wasn’t about to let anyone push him around... At least that’s what he thought, what he’d hoped... But as the other man’s blue eyes narrowed, his head tilting ever so slightly to the left; Dean found his eyes lowering, his gaze dropped to stare at the man’s tanned collarbone, exposed between the two open top buttons of his shirt. _Shit_

“Perfection.” Seraph whispered.

Dean’s frown deepened as the praise made the tips of his ears heat up. Alfie's low giggle drew Dean’s attention. The _traitor_.

“Would you like to play, Hunter?” Seraph asked him. His voice a soft rumble that had Dean nodding his head before the question fully registered. “I’d like you to verbally consent, starting now. Please be sure to speak your responses clearly.” 

Dean licked his lips, eyes flashing up to glance at Seraph’s face. It was a mask of calm and it set Dean’s stomach swirling with apprehension. 

“Now, let’s try again. Would you like to play, Hunter?”

“Y-- yes.”

“Good boy.”

Dean hated how the softly spoken praise had his chest puffing out.

“I believe we have some things to discuss before we begin. When was the last time you had something to eat? To drink?”

Seraph had gently motioned for Dean to move with him across the lounge to a small love seat. He followed at Dean’s heel, like a warm shadow, close enough to be felt but far enough away that Dean’s skin prickled.

“Um, a few hours ago. I’m good.” Dean sunk down into the soft leather of the couch, setting his duffle on the floor by his feet and noticing, for the first time, the packet of paper set out on the small coffee table.

“Nonsense.” Seraph interrupted “After viewing your profile I’ve had a few... idea’s in mind for tonight, if you’re amenable. I’d prefer if you were well hydrated before we begin.” He motioned to the papers on the table. “If you’d read over these, I’ll go and grab us some drinks.”

Dean blinked as Seraph turned and walked back towards the free bar. Damn if the man didn’t have a nice ass. Dean had to tear his gaze away from the broad shoulders and graceful movements of the other man. He’d been given a task and even though they hadn’t begun their scene yet, Dean was interested in what Seraph had planned.

Lifting the pages he notices a basic contract. A simple checklist with likes, dislikes, hard and soft limits. Dean picks up the pen clicking it a few times as he read. This was a little more in-depth than what he normally does. Usually it’s a quick verbal agreement, a short discussion of what both him and his partner are expecting from the scene and they're off. It looks like this Seraphim guy takes his scenes more seriously than Dean usually does.

The couch next to him sags as Seraph sits down, a glass of water lifted to his own lips and what looks like a beer held out for Dean to take. Eternally grateful for the distraction and liquid courage, Dean eagerly takes the cool glass. A sudden swarm of butterflies took flight in his stomach as Seraph joined him on the couch, his body radiating the kind of heat Dean finds hard to ignore. _What,_ this guy is stupid hot and already pushing all of Dean’s submissive buttons.

Bringing the glass to his lips, sweet is his first thought, apples is his second. Dean coughs, blinking down at the glass in his hands, then to the man, reclining, far too comfortably, on the loveseat next to him. Seraph has one dark brow arched high over a clear blue eye and a smug smile tilting his lips.

“Did you expect something else?” Seraph asks casually as he sets his ice water on the table, lifting the paperwork.

“Uh... yeah.” Dean admits rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t allow any sort of substance to be imbibed before a scene. It is important to me that we both enter into the scene completely sound of mind. Is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean shrugs, lots of people don’t like to play under the influence. It’s how injuries happen, it's how people get pushed passed their limits.

“Excellent. I’ve outlined some of the things I’d like to include in the scene tonight. I’ve spoken to Sandman about you at length and I think you will be amenable to my suggestions.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean glances over his shoulder to where Alfie stands behind the free bar, his fair skin blushing as the tall blond... Dean thinks his scene name is FallenFromGrace... behind the actual bar runs a long finger down the center of Alfie's chest.

“I’d like to tie you up.” The sound of Seraph’s deep voice has Dean swinging his head back to look at the other man. “I would be interested in tying you down, my ultimate goal is to suspend you, have you hanging in my riggings like a beautiful marionette...  but we will have to work up to that. For tonight I’d like to restrict your movements, do some rope bondage before eventually tying you down to the spanking bench. I like to include massage with my impact play. I’ve brought along some toys for tonight. I see you have a kit as well.” Seraph motioned to the bag by Dean’s feet.

Dean blinked, swallowing hard. Was this guy for real? Did he really just casually list off what he wanted to do to Dean without any emotion at all? Dean rolled the glass of apple juice between his palms, this was more like a business meeting then a scene discussion. It was putting Dean off his game. He couldn’t think of a snappy comeback or come on for the life of him so he simply nodded. He was usually way more casual and flirty then this.

Seraph clicked the pen and adjusted the papers on the table as he began to write. The muscles of his bare forearms bunching and flexing beautifully. Dean licked his lips.

“Let’s begin then. How do you feel about impact? Would you prefer paddles or my hand, either is fine with me, both would be more desirable, but I will respect your wishes.”

“Uh…” Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, either is fine, no canes. I don’t really like stingy, floggers and crops are cool though cause they are kinda in the middle.” 

“Excellent.” Seraph made a few check marks on the papers. “How do you feel about your mouth?” he asked, pausing so suddenly Dean was certain the other man was holding his breath. His eyes lifted to focus on Dean’s lips, the clear blue darkening ever so slightly.

Dean didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “I think I got a pretty mouth, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Dean laughed, this guy was something else. Normally people would show some kind of embarrassment at being caught staring but Seraph didn’t seem to mind. Unabashedly looking his fill at Dean’s mouth before clarifying his statement.

“I’d like to be able to kiss you. I think I’d enjoy feeling my fingers in your mouth. How do you feel about gags? I’d love to see your lips parted around… something.” Seraph finally lost a little nerve and looked down at his list.

“Yeah, dude. It’s cool, I’m clean. The club has a copy my last testing records. You can put your fingers in my mouth if you want.” Dean winked.

“And the other things?”

“You mean the gags and kissing and-- uh-- something?” Dean smiled, sitting back and taking another drink… apple juice, not beer, _ugh_. “Yeah, let’s put kissing down as a soft limit, maybe, if it goes well and we decide to do this again we can talk about it. You can kiss and bite anywhere that’s just skin, leave off the face and more, ah, intimate areas. Also, let’s keep our contact to whatever you can do with your hands or toys. I don’t know when your last test was and I want to stay clean.”

“Understandable.” Seraph checked a few more boxes. A small smile tilted his full, slightly chapped, lips as he checked off biting in the green column. “Would I be wrong in assuming you enjoy being praised over being scolded?”

“Uh.. yeah. No, you’re good there.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. Was he always this transparent or did Seraph just seeing him?

“Just a few more and then we can take this upstairs. I’ve already got a station set up. You’re ok with being bound, having your movement restricted? Any injuries or areas of your body I should be cautious with?”

“Nah dude. If something’s bothering me I’ll let you know. Bind away.”

“Excellent, last few…. Orgasm control and or denial, vibrators, plugs, and anal play, limits on all? This doesn’t have to be a sexual scene, but if it turns in that direction...”

“Yeah, I get you. I mean,” Dean paused taking another drink of his juice. “I can’t guarantee I’ll get it up, but if I do you can try to tell me when and how to finish. I’ll warn you now, I’m not experienced at long term orgasm controlling, we can put it down as a soft limit or we can use a cock ring. You can use any of the toys in my kit. My body is used to them already. If you stick your fingers in my ass don’t stick them in my mouth. If we do get to anal play then I’d prefer you use one of my plugs, I’ve got a few different ones and I enjoy them all.” Dean shrugged, thinking for a minute to make sure he covered everything he was asked.

“Also, no saliva, or fluid exchange. They’ve got lube stations around the club. I also bring my own. Like I said, if we decide this works and we want to go again, then we can swap test results, but until then I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Perfect, I completely agree. I would like you to refer to me as Sir during the scene, I expect it to either begin or end any response you give me. Do you have any preferred names? Anything you do or do not wish to be called?” Seraph asked as he checked off a few more boxes and sighed his scene name at the bottom of the page. 

“Um, never really thought about it. Can we play it by ear and if you call me something I don’t like I’ll let you know?”  

“Absolutely. Can I collar you?” Seraph asked as he slid the papers over to Dean to review and sign.

“Yeah, whatever. Since we didn’t discuss any other kinds of play I’m going to assume you don’t expect me to bark and beg like a dog though, cause that’s not really my gig. Oh, I like my hair played with though, pulling, petting, if you could do some of that...”

“Of course.” Seraph reached out and made a quick note, checking a few more boxes, before looking up again. “We won’t be altering the scene from what we’ve discussed, Hunter. Please don’t worry. Also I’ve overlooked this in my eagerness to get started but I tend to discuss a time limit before we begin. I foresee us playing for at least an hour, with the rope binding taking up a good portion of the time. Are ok with an extended scene for our first time?”

Dean signed his scene name at the bottom of the page with a small flourish. Not many Dom’s put a consideration on time limit and it was nice that this one did. “Yep" Dean said popping the 'p'. "Sounds good. I don’t have any other plans for the rest of the night. I was just hoping to get my ass beat so as long as we cover that I’m pretty solid on anything else.”

“Fantastic.” Seraph collected the papers folding them, he slipped them into a small envelope. “I consider you signing your name the beginning of our scene, what is your safe word?” 

“Poughkeepsie”

“Wonderful, mine is Purgatory. I comply with the stop light system, green for good, yellow for slow down and alter course, red for full stop. If for any reason you are feeling uncomfortable with something please say a color and I will alter my behavior or stop the scene completely. I will treat you calling red the same as you utilizing your safeword. Understood?”

“Yep, sounds good.”

Dean watched with a dark sense of satisfaction as Seraph’s lips thinned out and he frowned. He lifted the folded contract and shook it slightly. “As our scene has only just begun, I would like to give you an opportunity evaluate your answer and give it again.”

Dean smiled, licking his lips as a small thrill went down his spine. Already, he was having fun; Seraph's response to his disobedience was beautiful, a subtle change in the Dom's mask of calm. Dean wanted more, he wanted those ice blue eyes to darken with desire, he wanted those full lips tight with Seraph's thirst to bring Dean's bratty nature to heel. Oh, Dean knew the rules, of course he did, he just enjoyed bending them. Seeing how far he could push his Dom before he snapped. 

“Oh really? I dunno, I don’t think there was anything wrong with my first answer.” 

“Thats two. How many more are you looking rack up before we even get up stairs?”

“Just a few more I think.” Dean gave a wink feeling his whole body wake up under the icy glare his new Dom was giving him.

“Finish your drink, Hunter. I obviously have to teach you your place.”

 

**)o(**

 

“That’s eleven.” Seraph sighed from somewhere behind Dean. The rope, a high quality hemp, slid against his back and over his biceps. Seraph had been calmly binding him for the past fifteen minutes. The soft rope wound around his torso, his neck, between his arms and ribs, draped over his shoulder and around his hips. The longer Seraph worked the safer Dean felt, the rope hugged him, cradled him in a familiar comfort.

 

“On your feet.”

Dean blinked his eyes open. “Whaa?” He was feeling warm and sluggish. His arms folded behind his back, forearms pressed together and wrapped in a cocoon of rope. He wavered on his knees, looking over his shoulder to the sound of Seraph’s voice.

Seraph sighed “That’s twelve, how many more times are you going to break the rules?”

A hand slid into Dean’s hair petting through the strands gently as Seraph stepped up to his side. Dean let his eyes slip closed again, the feeling of blunt nails sliding over his scalp soothed him almost as much as the ropes constricting him.

“Oh, my pet, you do enjoy this, don’t you?” Seraph said his voice a low rumble by Dean’s ear.

“Yeah…” Dean sighed out, his shoulders slumping into the bonds that held him.

The hand petting through his hair turned violent, scraping across his scalp, twisting until his hair was tangled in a tight fist, strands pulling painfully, Dean hissed out displeasure through his teeth.

“That’s fourteen.” Seraph’s voice rumbled in Dean’s ear, the Dom pressed a hard kiss to his cheekbone. “I am going to enjoy this my pet.”

Dean groaned out as Seraph pulled his head back by his hair until their eyes met.

“On. Your. Feet.” Seraph tugged Dean by his hair until he staggered to his feet. Dean stumbled up from his knees, his shoulder jerking as he faltered in his bonds. The hand in his hair pulling him, forcing him to walk bent over at the waist. Dean hadn’t considered their slight height difference to be a big deal until this moment. As he lurched forward on numb feet Dean would have appreciated Seraph having his two extra inches. Because he was taller than Seraph, Dean was forced to hunch over farther, his body bending uncomfortably as the older man yanked him towards the padded spanking bench.

Dean’s knees collided with the cushioned kneel bar of the spanking bench, and still Seraph kept pulling. Dean wobbled as he crawled up on his knees, his feet dangled in the air behind him, Seraph guided his body forward until Dean was spread out, his chest pressed to the padded table top, thighs spread and completely exposed. Not for the first time that night the slow burn of arousal started in his stomach.

Being put in vulnerable positions did something to Dean. Maybe he was fucked in the head. Maybe ‘normal’ people didn’t crave being tied down and exposed for another's pleasure. Dean did, he fucking loved it. Seraph’s hand pushed Dean’s forehead into the plush padding of the tabletop.

“Do not move.” Seraph warned as he gave one final tug on Dean’s hair before releasing.

Dean tried, well, no, actually, he didn’t really try. In fact he hadn’t been trying at all to obey Seraph since the scene started. Dean had been stubborn and disrespectful, he hadn’t used Seraph’s chosen honorific once, since he’d stripped his clothes off and knelt on the padded floor. Dean wasn’t really sure exactly what was causing him to act out, to disobey. But he needed to. He needed to act out, to resist, to make Seraph really work for Dean's submission, more than he usually did.

Maybe it was because he felt Seraph was holding back. That the other man was just testing Dean, testing his limits, but not really pushing them. That the frustratingly handsome blue eyed man was only putting his toe in the waters of Dean’s need for dominance. Dean wasn’t going to have that, either Seraph gave Dean everything or nothing. He wasn’t about to make it easy on the Dom.

Or maybe, Dean just wanted to make that cool, calm facade of control snap. He had yet to meet a Dom who’s skin he couldn’t get under. Either way, Dean lasted a good two seconds before he lifted his head to seek out the Dom.

“Bad boy.” Seraph sighed from somewhere behind him and Dean felt a strange swirl of anxiety in his stomach. “Such a little brat. If you’re going to continue to behave like a child I am afraid I'm going to have to treat you like one.”

Without warning the heavy weight of Seraphs hand came down on Dean’s ass. The blows fell in rapid succession, one after another, no rhythm, no timing, just one hard hit after another. The air quickly filled with Dean's groans and gasps, the sharp snap of skin on satin as Seraph laid into Dean’s panty covered bottom. Time lost all meaning to Dean. His body tightening and relaxed as each hit shook him. The blows fell for hours, or seconds, Dean couldn't focus passed wanting to feel the next hit fall. He was enraptured. His eyes rolling, his mouth parted, his throat aching as he moaned and whimpered and gasped. He knew how he looked, squirming, hips rutting the air between each hit, his cock hard and straining obscenely in his panties.

Dean tensed, his whole body rigid, hands balled into fists against his back, sweat beginning to trickle from his hairline. He waited, mind starting to quiet as the warmth of his stinging bottom spread up his back. Seconds stretched into minutes, his breathing slowed as the adrenaline of the last few moments began to peter off. Dean let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed against the bench below him.

“RAAAGH!!” Dean’s head snapped back up as Seraph landed an exceptionally heavy blow. The pain radiated sharp and hot up his right side. His body constricting severely, his muscles wracked with tension as his body tried to defend against another blow. Dean’s shout turned into a groan as he heavily dropped his head back to the bench.

“Hunter?” Seraph’s amused voice hummed softly. Dean lifted his head, eyes blurry from how tightly he’d squeezed them shut. Seraph squatted by his head, low enough to bring their faces into alignment, clear blue eyes sparkled with mirth. The bastard hadn’t even broken a sweat. Dean huffed a breath. “So lovely.” Seraph murmured, pushing a lock of Dean’s sweat dampened hair off of his forehead. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Are you ready to behave?”

Instead of answering, Dean turned his face away. No, he wasn’t ready to behave, just because this guy knew how to spank an ass; Hell, just because this guy could spank an ass really, really well didn’t mean Dean was just going to roll over and be his ‘good boy’. 

“Ah, I see. Not quite yet.” Seraph sighed, letting the pad of his thumb slide along Dean’s lower lip. “Such a shame really. If you’re going to pout, I guess I will just have to give you something to pout about.”

With that Seraph stood, one fluidly graceful, dangerous movement that had him vanishing from Dean’s line of sight.

“You know.” The deep voice came from behind Dean again. “When you stripped off your clothes, I never imagined you’d be wearing _this_ underneath.”

Dean shivered as Seraph ran his fingernails roughly over his hips. He flinched as Seraph pulled and released the elastic of his garters, making them snap sharply against the meat of his thighs. “What a pleasant surprise. Like opening a gift on Christmas morning.” Dean felt the tips of Seraph’s fingers slip into the waistband of his panties, “I guess it’s time I unwrap the rest of my present.” 

The garter belt went first, falling to the floor, quickly followed by the thigh highs. The panties went last, Seraph slid them slowly down over Dean’s hips. Scraping slightly over the reddened flesh of his butt and thighs.

Seraph sighed, running the flat of his hand over Dean’s backside “Perfect.” Dean’s eyes went wide as Seraph roughly parted his cheeks, stroking over his hole in an almost clinical manner before stepping back.

Seraph stepped around to the front of the spanking bench and lifted Dean’s duffle. “Let’s see…” The Dom smiled as he pulled out the medium sized mauve plug Dean favored.

“I think this one will do nicely.” He said setting it on the bench next to Dean’s shoulder. He returned to the bag and pulled out a half used bottle of Astroglide and a pair of purple, laytex gloves. A small mischievous smiled tilted Seraph’s lips as he turned his attention back to Dean. “Busy boy, hmm?” He asked, holding out the bottle and giving it a little shake.

Dean frowned at him, pressing his lips together to show his displeasure.

“No matter.” Seraph said as he snapped the gloves against his wrist, wiggling his fingers to ensure they didn’t tear. “You’re my boy now.” He said as he picked up the plug and lube, disappearing passed Dean’s shoulder again.

The first drizzle of lube had Dean yelping, his hole puckered as Seraph worked his thumb around, spreading the lube over Dean’s entrance. Without warning, a finger breached him, sinking slowly inside. Before long, one finger became two and Dean was moaning, head rolling against the sweat warmed leather of the spanking bench.

 “There’s a good boy.” Seraph cajoled, his free hand petting down Dean’s flank.

Seraph was quick and efficient in opening Dean up. His husky voice whispering praise as he continued to stroke inside and out, over Dean’s back, along his hip, down his spine, until one moment the fingers were gone and the blunt tip of Dean’s favorite plug was slipping inside of him.

Seraph doesn’t ask, he doesn’t wait for Dean to acclimate to the plug, the Dom simply turns the little toy on and it buzzes softly against Dean’s inner walls. Dean can’t help the moan that sighs out of him, licking his lips and letting his eyes flutter closed. Dean rocks his hips gently, small uncontrollable twitches, as he seeks out some kind of stimulation. The weight of his erection hangs between his legs, neglected. The bench is designed in such a way that there is nothing for Dean to rub against except open air. His moans quickly turn into grunts of frustration.

“Now, I believe you are at fifteen infractions.” Seraph says as he steps around Dean to the small work table. He lifts a smooth, high polish gray paddle, its rectangular, narrow, and tapers to a blunt point. “This is Corian Countertop Stone.” Seraph holds the paddle out for Dean to see. “Since you still aren’t behaving, I am going to double your punishment. I want you to count out every hit.”

Seraph circles back around out of Dean’s sight and the first blow lands with a low _swack_ against Dean’s ass before Seraph’s footsteps even stop.

“One.”

Dean bites out through clenched teeth. Feeling the cool stone against his hot bottom sends an odd rush of sensation through his body. 

“No, Hunter.” Seraph tisks. “Begin again. We won’t gain any ground if you refuse do it properly.” The next blow falls as Seraph says the word properly and Dean yelps, his hands balling into fists against his back.

“One.” Dean grits out again. He knows what Seraph wants, but he’s just not willing to give it to him yet. By now they’ve drawn a small crowd of people. Those who have already finished their scenes or have yet to begin them, mill around on the outskirts of Dean and Seraph’s station. Some settle down on the available couches and futons set out along the walls for just this purpose, observing scenes.

“I want to be good for you Hunter, really I do.” The blows began to fall; right ass cheek, left thigh.

“But if you’re going to be petulant.” Left thigh, right thigh.

“I won’t have any choice” Left ass cheek, right thigh, right ass cheek, left thigh, left thigh again.  

“But to show you how to be good.” Right ass cheek, left ass cheek, right ass cheek, left ass cheek.

“I’ll make you good for me.”

Dean felt alive, his skin burned, Seraph’s promise rang in his ears. Dean could feel the people watching him, watching Seraph punish him; it made him hot, made his blood boil heavy with arousal and embarrassment. His cock hung hot and heavy between his legs, leaking pre-come and jumping with each smack, each hit of the paddle to his body. There was a rhythm now, predictable. Each hit came within two seconds of the last, as Seraph made a clear path around Dean's abused backside. Right cheek, left thigh, left cheek, right thigh, both cheeks, then begin again.

“Don’t you want to be good for me?” Seraph asked, he barely sounded out of breath.

Meanwhile Dean was gasping for air. The hits paused for a fraction of a second as Seraph skillfully pressed the button on the plugin Dean’s ass, kicking it up a notch. Dean’s back bowed the cry of pleasure ripped from his lungs as the plug shook inside of him. 

“Yes!” Dean shouted.

“That’s sixteen, Hunter.” Seraph said calmly. “If you want to be good, you have to prove it. You can begin at any time.”

This time when the blow fell Dean cried out.

“One, Sir.”

“Ah. There you are. There's my good boy.” Seraph croons. The pride in his voice makes Dean whimper, his lips pressed together as he squeezes his eyes closed.

“Two, Sir.” Dean gasped, sucking in hot air. 

“So perfect for me, such a good boy.”

“Three, Sir.”

Dean’s words began to slur as the blows to his backside beat like the rhythm of his heart. The world becomes blurry around the edges. Spit slipped passed Dean’s lips as he gasped and moaned and choked out number after number. Seraph follows each hit, each time Dean calls him Sir with whispers of praise, of encouragement. Dean eats it up like it’s his last meal before execution.

“Twenty-seven, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Dean whimpered, his mind so far gone only the sharp sting of the paddle kept him on task. Seraph told him to count, good boys count their blows, Dean was a good boy, Dean _is_ a good boy, so he counts. 

“Oh, my. I think for that one you deserve a little reward.”

The plug in his ass kicks up another notch. Dean pants, gasping loudly, his toes curling, his thighs shake with sensation as he writhes against the spanking bench.

“Don't come until you’ve finished your count, Hunter. What number are you on?”

Twenty….” Dean gasps, something long and cool and slick slides down his perineum. “Twenty… Twenty…” He writhes against it, his cock bounces as the object presses to the back of his scrotum. 

“Yes. Go on. You can do it, Hunter. What number are you on?” 

“TWENTY-EIGHT” Dean cried out as the blow falls to his right ass cheek and the object, a vibrator kicks on. “RAHHH! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please…..” He’s so close, so close to coming. “Please, please, Sir, please.” He chants, arms straining against his bonds.

“Almost there Hunter, you can do it.”

“Twenty-nine, Sir. Please Sir.”

The vibrator glides over his balls and hums at the base of his shaft. Dean’s hips tip back in an attempt to slide the vibrator up his aching cock just as the next blow falls.

“Thirty, Sir!” Dean calls out his eyes wide and unseeing, his entire being focused down to what's going on between his legs.

“Thirty-one Sir, please, please. SIR!”

The vibrator inches forward, rubbing along the thick vein that runs up the underside of Dean’s cock. It’s too much and not enough. So many warring sensations battle for control of Dean’s mind. He gives into them all, submitting completely to the man playing his body like a finely tuned instrument.

“Th… Th... Thirty-two” Dean gasps out, the air getting stuck in his throat as his body shudders. "Sir."

“Come for me Hunter. You’re such a good boy. You did so well, come for me my pet.”

Dean doesn't need to be told twice, between the vibe-plug in his ass and the vibrator being held against his dick he loses it. Wheezing hard, he cries out his pleasure, cock jerking between his thighs as his come spatters to the floor.

“There we go, that's it. I’m so proud of you.”

There are hands petting through his hair, running down like cool water to rub and stroke his shoulders, soothing and massaging the ache from his muscles and joints. At some point the rope was removed, small lines from his confinement criss-cross his torso and mar his arms like invisible bracers. He’s tucked in a big fuzzy blanket on a large couch next to their scene station, Seraph is pressed in beside him. His large frame exuding heat like a furnace as he strokes and pets over Dean’s sweat dampened flesh.

“How long was I out?” Dean asks, his voice hoarse from his cries. He licks his lips trying to get the moisture flowing in his mouth again. 

“A while.” Seraph responds softly. “I’ve applied a cream to your backside that should help with the pain and swelling.” 

And as if this guy couldn’t get anymore perfect he hands Dean a glass of ice cold apple juice. 

“Thank you, Sir.” Dean rasps taking the glass and gulping down half of it before Seraph gently extracts it from his fingers.

“Drink slowly, please.” The Dom corrects Dean kindly. Dean nods, bringing the glass back to his lips, he takes a more measured sip. 

“Good boy.” Seraph smiles. “How do you feel?” 

Normally Dean isn’t one for snuggles. A little aftercare, some clean up, sure but out right snuggles are usually not his thing. However, being tucked up under Seraph’s arm, his head resting against what seems to be a rather well developed chest, Dean feels protected, valued, safe, and for once he’s not going to question it, he’s just going to enjoy it. 

“I-- uh-- I feel great, a little loopy, but --Yeah, really good. Thanks-- uh, Thank you, Sir.” 

“You are absolutely spectacular.” Seraph says, placing a small kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “Truly. You’re perfect.” 

Dean knows he's blushing, thankful that his head is tucked under Seraph’s chin as the other man continues to whisper praise into Dean’s hair. Dean yawns. His eyes slipping closed, vaguely he feels the empty glass being slid from his fingers as Seraph’s deep voice, the rumble in his chest, washes Dean to sleep.

 

**)o(**

“Hunter?”

Dean sniffled, nodding awake with a jolt. 

“Hello handsome.” 

Seraph is smiling at him, a wide gummy grin, that is far too adorable to be on such a serious face.

“Hello yourself.” Dean yawns, stretching, the blanket falling from his bare shoulders.

“How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? Sore, sated, more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, months? Really fucking great in the way only a serious ass beating could make him feel? 

“Uh-- fine. Yeah, good. Thanks.”

“Wonderful. I noticed you had some cotton pants in your duffel bag. Why don’t you put them on. I have to finish cleaning up the area, but once I’m done we can chat.” 

Seraph didn't give Dean time to think, he simply handed over the pants and turned back to their station. Dean yawns deeply, stretching and testing his muscles; the backs of his thighs and the skin of his ass burn as he slides out of the blanket he’s wrapped in. It doesn’t feel great but it’s better then it would have been if Seraph had skipped the soothing cream. Dean’s definitely going to be feeling this for a while. He can’t hide his smile as he stands from the couch and slips the soft pants up over his hips. As if on queue Seraph appears in front of him holding out his black t-shirt and duffle bag.

“I used an antibacterial, silicone safe, foaming toy cleaner on your plug before putting it back in your bag. I also took the liberty of storing your lingerie in your duffel as I can imagine you are not too keen on putting them back on just yet.” 

“Thanks man.”

Seraph nods and steps around Dean to fold the blanket; he slips it into one of the laundry bags and drops the whole thing into one of the club’s laundry baskets. Turning around, Seraph smiles, a small upturn of his lips. Dean stands a little taller, feeling that ice blue gaze slide over his body. 

“Hunter…” Seraph begins, then stops clearing his throat. It’s the first time all night that Dean’s seen the other man looking anything but absolutely certain of his role and actions.

“Seraphim.” Dean parrots the other man’s overly serious tone and posture but he can’t hold it, his face breaks and he laughs. His ass is sore, his skin tingles with the memory of the rope and he’s still buzzing from an amazing orgasm. “Come on man, don’t make it weird.” Dean smiles, reaching out and cuffing the other man’s shoulder. “You got stuff to say, let’s grab a beer downstairs and we can chat about it.”

 “Yes. Of course. After you.” Seraph makes the ‘after you’ motion with his hand and the two wander down the stairs, out of the play area and into the much quieter lounge. Seraph takes one of Dean’s drink tickets and strides to the bar with it. Jody has taken Fallen’s spot behind the actual bar, Donna by her side working the free bar.

“Dean….” Alfie’s whisper has his head snapping around.

“Alfie…” Dean whispers back. The younger man is crouched behind the loveseat Dean’s sitting on.

“How’d it go? I watched some of your scene, it looked ah-may-ziiiiing.” Alfie’s eyes shine bright with excitement. 

“Yeah, man. It was. Honestly, I haven’t felt this good after a scene in a long time.” 

Alfie claps his hands excitedly. “I knew it. I knew you’d be perfect together. I want a bride price!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “What the hell?”

“It’s a thing people used to do when matchmakers were still around. If the matchmaker makes a good match then they can ask for a bride price. Or like some kind of gift or something for making a good match. I knew you’d be perfect together, I’m going to ask for a bride price.”

“Say the word match one more time…” Dean can’t seem to fight the blush rising over his features. Yeah, this Seraphim guy was amazing and Dean would love to scene with him again, but judging by how the Dom had looked at Dean, how nervous he had seemed at the end. Dean wasn’t sure the other man would want him again.

“And I would gladly pay it Samandriel.”

Seraph’s voice has both Dean and Alfie’s heads turning. Seraph handed Dean a glass full of some malt colored liquid that turned out to be a lager. Dean gulped down half as Seraphim sat down beside him. Long fingers reached out and gently tilted the glass away from his lips.

 “I know that we are not in the scene any longer but I would appreciate it if you could drink more slowly.” Seraph said releasing Dean’s glass. He turned his eyes to Alfie who was still hiding behind their seat, a shit eating grin curling his youthful features.

 “Samandriel” Seraph began but Alfie made a loud hissing noise, like a mad cat.

 “Scene names Seraph, scene names!!” He waved his hand in front of his face like he was trying to clear a bad smell away from his nose.

 “Of course, I apologize. Sandman, if you wouldn't mind. I believe Hunter and I have some things to discuss.”

 “Yeah, yeah, Bride price!” Alfie winked and made finger guns at Seraph, then Dean, before he scooted away.

 “So….” Dean says stretching out the word. His fingers chilled from the cold, now half empty, glass in his hands. He knows this part. He knows this is the part where Seraph says, 'hey that was fun and all but obviously this isn’t going to work out for ‘X reasons’. This is the part where Dean shoves his shoulders back, lifts his chin and takes his disappointment like it’s nothing, like it never mattered to him in the first place. Like their scene didn’t mean anything to him, like this Seraph guy isn’t perfect in every way Dean needs a Dom to be. This is the part where Dean gets told he isn’t right, he isn’t good enough, he’s too big, too bratty, too difficult to be a 'proper' sub. This is the part, the part that happens every time, but never gets any easier.

“So.” Seraph parrots him this time. The other man takes a deep drink, sighing a contented noise before putting his glass down. “So, I think that went rather well don’t you? In fact I think that I would like to see you again, if you are interested in a follow up scene with me?”

 “Yeah, man, I get it. It’s cool don’t worry about it…. What?” Dean’s halfway through his rejection response speech when Seraph’s words register to him. His head snaps up, mouth hanging open. This can’t seriously be happening. “W-- what?”

 Seraph chuckles, a deep low rumble that has Dean leaning towards the other man.

 “Look, I’ll be blunt. I haven’t had a scene like that in a long time. You were absolutely perfect, Hunter. A submissive male like you... Well you're someone I never thought I’d meet. You’re a dream come true, and I couldn’t imagine leaving here tonight without at least confirming a follow up scene.” Seraph pauses, sips his drink and clears his throat before continuing. “I just don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t touch you again. To be honest my goal is long term. I’m not looking for something quick, to occasionally scratch an itch. I thrive on stability and order. I’m looking for a serious, full time Dominant submissive relationship, I don’t just want to do this on the weekends.”

 “So, like, what are you saying?” Dean’s head is spinning, this guy just jumped like 15 steps in the, Dean Winchester’s Guide to Avoiding Emotional Attachment handbook. Someone wants him? Someone enjoyed playing with him so much they are thinking long term? Like keeping Dean around? Like getting awesome spankings and shit on the regular? Dean’s brain stutters to a stand still.

 “I know we don’t know much about each other but I am interested in continuing on this path with you. This is how I’ve chosen to live my life, up until tonight I was under the belief that I might never find someone like you. Your reactions are so pure, undiluted, you are completely yourself. You do not pretend to be the person you think I want, and that, Hunter, is what makes you so special. I know this is a lot to take in and we can work up to this if you’re interested.”

 Dean licked his lips, after finishing his beer. He definitely needs more time, this is really fucking sudden. Was he interested? Dean looks over the Dom, sure the guys hot, like, super hot, if Dean’s being honest with himself, but it’s not just that is it? No, it’s the way Seraph handled the scene, with calm control, never once letting Dean’s behavior get under his skin. How he laid out the rules for the scene and carefully stuck with them, never breaching Dean’s trust by ad libbing. It’s how Seraph treated Dean after the scene ended, like he was something precious, to be care for. It’s all the times the Dom checked in with Dean, to ensure he was okay.

 So yes, Dean’s interested. How long has he been looking for a safe, sane Dom? Too long, far too long. Yes, he needs the life style, yes it’s not the same for everyone, some people like a bubble bath after a rough day, Dean likes his ass paddled raw, likes to be told what to do and when to do it.

“This is too soon, I know.” Seraph shakes his head pulling Dean from his thoughts. “I am aware this was only our first scene, here.” Seraph reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek black business card. “This is my personal information, if you are interested, in, at the very least, doing another scene with me, please reach out. I’ll leave the ball in your court, so to speak. Though know that I will be waiting to hear from you. I can’t deny that it would drive me crazy to think of another Dom putting their hands on you--” Seraph cuts off abruptly a flush covering his cheeks. “Forgive me that was inappropriate.”

Dean can’t help the small smile that stretches his lips. Someone’s got it bad and for once, Dean’s not alone in that. He spins the business card between his fingers, the embossed gold lettering glints in the dull light of the lounge.

“Well, uh, let’s hold off on the sentiment for now. I don’t know about long term, at least not yet, but-- but I’d like to scene with you again, I know that much. And maybe, I don’t know maybe, like after a few scenes, we can grab some food outside of the power-bars and apple juice of Lotus.”

“I’d love to take you out Hunter. Just let me know when and I will take care of the rest.” Seraph smile is blinding and Dean can’t do anything but bask in the warm feelings it instills in him.

“Sure man.” Dean holds up the card “I’ll have my people call your people.”

Seraph laughs, eyes bright, white teeth, broad shoulders shaking. “That sounds perfect. Until next time, Hunter.”

Seraph stands, placing a small kiss to the top of Dean’s head. Dean watches as the man collects a weather beaten, leather briefcase; the kind that traveling doctors used to carry in the old west, and bids farewell to Alfie. With cat-like grace he strolls to reception and turns his PAID bracelet in before slipping out into the night.

Dean lets out a long slow breath. Already he feels like his life is changing, he wants to hold onto the hope that, for once, it’s for the better.  His eyes dip down to the card in his hands, in fine, rolling, golden script the text reads:

 

_Castiel J. Novak_

_Attorney at Law_

_C.Novak@ngelmail.com_

_C: 602-555-8794_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. If you see any tags I missed please let me know and I'll add them.
> 
> As one of my favorite authors says:
> 
> Comments and Kudos activates my praise kink. 
> 
> Come say Hi [Tumblr](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com/)


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